Torque
by stray.alchemist
Summary: Fulfilling one's fate can be strenuous, especially when it's a god's fate. A tale of two brothers, affections and expectations, an emerging war, Asgard's most hidden secrets, and a reckless dare that has become something more dangerous than anyone could foresee.
1. Chapter 1

_I must not fear for fear is the mind-killer. _

_Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. _

_I will face my fear. _

_I will permit it to pass over me and through me. _

_And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. _

_Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. _

_Only I will remain._

- Frank Herbert, _Dune_

The palace was an impressive, bright hall during the day, but the night turned it into an ominous labyrinth of dark corridors and vast rooms inhabited by shadows and creatures born of nightmares. The walls echoed with jingle of swords as the Einheriar fought restlessly. Valhalla was a scary place, after all - if one listened carefully enough and knew where to look. It was a citadel. A reminder that the Aesir were always at war. Usually Loki didn't need anything more to lay stiff and sleepless, too afraid to close his eyes, fighting off images of what might happen, of enemies banging at the gates, of prisoners kept below the palace, of all the things he had learned that his imagination fed upon, but this time, it was not abstract fear that kept him awake. His current situation would have been funny... if only it wasn't so distant from his idea of how young sorcerers should act.

Young sorcerers certainly shouldn't hang upside down from chandeliers, trying to hide from their brothers and their bands of overgrown bullies. They also shouldn't rely on a simple wish that their brothers won't be bright enough to look upwards.

The godling clutched his fingers on chandelier's frame. From this angle he could see Thor's golden hair, a mess of curls moving as he tilted and cocked his head.

'Loki?' Thor's voice rumbled in the corridor. 'Where are you?'

Loki sighed. Why bother with stealth when his brother would soon wake up the whole castle.

'Loki, you shouldn't be out there! It's already late, and dark, and it's...'

And what? Dangerous? Because our father has told you so? The self-proclaimed sorcerer smirked.

'Loki... oh. Why do you...'

Loki blinked with surprise and looked at his older brother, now with his head raised up. The fact that Thor was equally surprised was not comforting at all.

'What are you doing up there?', Thor asked.

'Nothing in particular', the other godling replied in his most disdainful tone. 'Admiring the view, probably. This angle is quite interesting.'

The older prince furrowed his eyebrows.

'Honestly?'

'No', Loki snorted.

'Then why did you... and how, by the way... why are you hanging from a chandelier?'

'It's none of your business.'

Thor's frown became deeper.

'You weren't hiding from me, were you?'

No witty retort came to Loki's mind. He could deal with an insult or a dare, but Thor's question was so unbelievably frank and naive. He was easy to read, and now everything about him - the serious look in his eyes, the deepening wrinkle between his brows, the gesture of his hands - signified concern and honesty.

'Not from you, you fool', he said finally, scorn ringing in his voice again. 'From this band of brutes that has gathered around you. I would have never expected my brother to surround himself with such mindless creatures.'

'They're my friends.' This clearly sounded like a warning. 'They're loyal, and brave, and they would never abandon me in battle.'

Loki gave a scoffing laugh. 'And how many battles have you fought? How many times have you put their loyalty and courage to test?'

Thor remained silent, clenching his fists. The other godling could almost sense his tension and anger rising.

'And is it true that you have accepted a dwarf's companion? I could understand the servants and the squires, but a dwarf? How does such a pitiful, greedy being earn a prince's friendship? The next thing you'll probably do will be inviting a mortal to join you...'

'Watch your words!' Thor cried.

To Loki's surprise, it wasn't a cry of anger. It was another warning - and a rather unexpected one. His brother tried to contain his own pride and to prevent himself from responding to these insults as he should, according to Asgardian customs.

It was actually a sophisticated form of backing off.

Loki gazed at his brother for a while and started laughing. He couldn't think of a better response, and laughter was halfway between a taunt and acknowledging one's victory. He squinted, avoiding the shade of disappointment in Thor's eyes. Triumph or not, it still wasn't a pleasant sight. It made the memories of previous humiliation and need for revenge melt.

Thor exhaled deeply. Any further discussion with his brother was bound to be pointless and he could as well walk away. But there was still one thing he was curious about. Loki didn't do things just because he felt like doing them. Anything he did had a purpose. A reason. It could be a very abstract cause, but it always was at the core of Loki's motivations, no matter to what it led.

'Are you planning to spend the rest of the night here, hanging upside down like a bat?'

'No.' The reply came after a few seconds of deliberation.

'It has nothing to do with your sorcery, am I right?'

'...you might be.'

'Then why?'

Loki didn't respond. Thor could barely see his brother's face in the candlelight, his eyes narrowed to slits of a bright, greenish shade of blue.

'You got stuck up there, didn't you?'

Loki scowled.

'You really did?'

The older godling shook his head in both disbelief and amusement. His lips curled in a faint smile. Loki sighed. There were a few things young sorcerers should never say, as these things could easily thwart their fresh reputation and air of sinister mystery. Such as -

'Can you... do something about it?'

There were also answers that future kings, only freshly clothed in pride and boisterousness fitting storms and thunders just fine, shouldn't give. For example, 'Sure, brother'.

- - -

The morning dawned all too early; as if the sun rose a few minutes after Loki had pressed his head to the pillow. His hands still felt a bit sore and wore stains of soot and rust from the chandelier. The young prince would gladly wrap himself up in blankets and steal a few more minutes of sleep, but this was clearly not the Asgardian way. After all, his drowsiness was only a petty inconvenience, nothing that should keep him from his duties - or his interests.

He yawned and scrubbed off the stains carefully. Even though Sol was only beginning her journey, the citadel was already filling up with sounds and voices. He could easily pick up his brother's loud, cheerful voice. As if last night's wanderings didn't affect Thor at all - well, maybe they didn't, he was tough. He always had this strength of his, just enough of it to go on even when he was supposed to faint from exhaustion, this inner flame, palpable for anyone whose senses were extended by sorcery.

This flame is his will, and we all shall see it turning into a magnificent blaze, said father when Loki asked about it.

He had looked into himself many times and never noticed anything even close to that beautiful flame. Maybe a few sparks of coldfire, if anything.

Loki sighed and knotted a decorative jacket over his tunic. There had to be something else. His magic didn't come from nowhere. He grabbed a sheaf of clear parchment - astral pockets, it seemed, were still beyond his abilities - and strode to the dining hall.

Becoming a sorcerer was, in fact, a strenuous task, and most of it wasn't even sorcery at all. It was memorizing countless names, dates and events, supposedly resulting in gaining some essential knowledge of how the worlds were functioning. Inevitable boredom was the side effect. Loki didn't see any link between this tedious theory and exciting practice. He didn't need the former, first of all. He just felt the magic and instinctively knew how to use it.

He sat down at the table, waiting to be served and repeating the previous lessons silently. His hand flickered over wood, carving illusory, glowing runes on its surface. He knew soon he wouldn't need even gestures, his wishes would flow and bend reality -

'What's this?', a well-known voice rang over his ears. 'Is it what they teach you now?'

Thor smiled and sat on the opposite side of the table, smiling with genuine interest. It's already been a year since their ways in study parted, and they have been learning separately, assisted by different tutors. Loki had to admit he knew very little of what his brother was doing - mainly because he didn't ask. He had no willingness to listen about the things that he was apparently not good enough for.

'This? No', he said, erasing the runes. 'This is nothing but a trick. I do it for fun', he added with a smirk.

Thor smiled even wider.

_Oh, why don't you go away and let me prepare for my lessons._

'And you?' Loki forced a polite tone upon himself. 'What are you doing now?'

'I'm mostly working in the stables', his brother said casually, making broad gestures.

'You. In the stables', the younger prince raised his eyebrow.

'Aye. You have no idea how difficult is to tame those horses. They're very nervous at first and make a lot of mess. They also bite sometimes.' He raised his sleeve to show an extensive bruise as a proof. 'We're having a hard time cleaning after them.'

'But... you're a prince. An heir to the throne', Loki reminded him, nibbling at his breakfast and flushing his sleepiness with a heavy, spicy infusion. Princes didn't need to clean the stables. That's what the servants were for.

'I am indeed', Thor said between one mouthful and another. 'But I have to know how to control those damned animals in battle, and I have to understand the people that ride them.'

'What for? You won't even meet them, you'll be only giving orders', he shrugged.

'Not only', Thor explained in a merely indulgent voice. 'Of course I won't be even able to meet all of my soldiers personally, but we need to trust each other.'

Loki raised his brow skeptically.

'And how is cleaning the stables supposed to help you with this?'

'Well', the other godling waved his hand in another gesture. 'I learn about their way of living. I experience the same difficulties as they do.'

'But you're not one of them', Loki snapped. 'You're someone different.'

He drank the rest of his infusion quickly. This conversation was sounding too much like the previous one, only it was more polite. For now.

'Maybe I'm not that different', Thor said surprisingly calmly. 'I have to tell you, brother, the more time I spend with those people, the less I feel different.'

'I can't wait to see father reacting to this', Loki muttered, gathering his belongings. It was a poor retort, but he wasn't letting his brother have the last word. 'Have a nice day, brother, I don't want to keep my tutors waiting.'

Thor looked at Loki's plate, almost full.

'Aren't you going to eat this?', he asked.

'I don't think so.' Loki believed he had just reached the peak of eminence available to hungry young godlings pretending to be sorcerers. 'My lessons are more important.'

'Can I have it?'

'Sure. Eat it. I'm not hungry at all', he said, trying to ignore the twitching in his empty stomach.

The twitching continued throughout lectures and discussions. Loki scribbled inattentively, his mind wandering to places his tutors would probably never suspect.

They were so much alike that they could be one person; all of them wore heavy, black robes and probably were born when the world itself was an infant, and now wrinkles were carved so deep in their faces it was difficult to imagine what their features could have looked like. Loki had decided that even if he was going to be one of them, he would never allow himself to assume the look of a twisted root. He'd save spells and rites for important things, and he would be able to gain the rest with a smile or two anyway. Not that he really wanted to be one of them. They could be powerful or dangerous, but their minds were exasperatingly dull. Exhausted of any curiosity or courage. They reminded him of empty shells, enslaved by themselves, too afraid to reach for more. Even worse: denying him the access to more knowledge. And he knew there was something else. It was calling to him. As an echo of a howl.

Loki frowned. Such calls rarely led to anything other than trouble, he already knew this; but since no one wanted to give him answers, he had to find them on his own.

He remembered the last time he tried to obtain the answers from his father. The memory filled his mind with smell of smoke and blood.

- - -

The chambers behind the throne room were no place for a child, and he could clearly understand why the guards would never let him in. He didn't even think of asking them to let him in, in the first place. He sneaked past heavy curtains and tapestries, for once in his life being grateful for unimpressive posture.

He could see Odin's silhouette: an outline of a sturdy armlet, the tail of a robe, silvery hair adorned by a heavy crown. Suddenly the idea of sneaking in here and breaking his father's ban became a ridiculously stupid, careless idea. However, it was already too late - the All-father surely knew about Loki's presence in the room.

'What is it, my son, that troubles you?', he asked, turning his head to him.

Loki could swear his heart stopped for a while, petrified with fear and awe, as usual. He expected his father to order him to go back to his rooms, where he'd have to deal with his own self-disrespect arising from the disappointment he'd caused. But Odin only looked at him with what must have been concern.

'It's only...', he muttered, gathering his courage. 'Forgive me, father, but since none of my mentors could fully understand my questions and doubts, let alone answer them in a satisfactory way...' His lips curled in an apologetic smile. 'I have decided to ask you.'

He bowed his head.

'Then ask.' All-father's voice was sympathetic, and yet he could hear echoes of past years in it. He couldn't help feeling a little scared.

'It's about the Eitr, father. I've been told it's the substance that ran through the veins of the first beings', he almost recited. 'The essence of life, one could say.' He frowned. 'Only it's venom. It's poison. How could that be? Are we really born of bane?'

He took a deep breath and continued to talk with nervous excitement.

'At first I thought that there must be some mistake, some misinterpretation in the texts I've read. After all, we couldn't be... evil.' The last word rang surprisingly heavily, like a verdict. 'We are the Aesir. We cannot be evil. Can we?'

Odin gave him a questioning look.

'We are the creatures of light, born to rule over other realms and to protect them from primeval darkness', the godling added frantically. 'It is our privilege and duty...'

_...and if it's not? If it's only a right we had claimed ourselves?_

'What are you trying to say, my son?'

'That poison just cannot be a cure', Loki said too sharply.

'Very well then, you've found your answer.' Instead of scolding him for this or expressing approval for his logic, Odin dismissed him with an inattentive gesture. Loki bowed his head again and left, feeling that he was even further away from the answer than before.

- - -

Loki sighed. He had already made up his mind, but the idea was thrilling nonetheless. After all, he was going to steal. It could be a book no one else cared about, but theoretically, it belonged to his father. And surely was guarded.

He waited until Sol hung low over the horizon. He'd decided it would be better than wandering through the citadel in the middle of the night, when any movement would cause suspicion. Now nobody paid attention to him, and he easily entered the oldest part of Valhalla.

It was built of yellowish stone and red-tinted wood, carved in elaborate patterns. Columns supporting the ceiling were clasped in arms of dragons. Empty wooden eyes seemed to follow Loki as he walked through the chambers, breathing in the surprisingly pleasant scent of spoiled resin. His steps were careful, as if he didn't want to wake whatever creature could be sleeping in this absolute silence.

There were no doors; only decorative arches over the passages. He looked back, trying to remember his path. He walked for what could have been hours. The sun must have set long ago, and he still hasn't found any trace of the book he was looking for. In fact, the chambers were surprisingly empty. No iron chests or trophies hanging from walls. No furniture, not even torches or chandeliers. This part of Valhalla seemed to be filled with its own, soft light. Loki also noticed - far too late as for a self-proclaimed godling of cunning - that there was no dust on the floor.

He was so occupied with unraveling the mysteries of this place that he hardly noticed a wall at the end of the corridor. He almost bumped into it and instantly jumped off.

There was a large wooden relief placed into that wall, and at first he took it for a living creature standing opposite him. It was slightly taller than him and had Asgardian features, but he couldn't tell its gender. Two other creatures, clearly females, stood behind it. The illusion of depth was perfect. Loki leaned forward, examining the details. For a moment he felt the person's breath brushing his skin.

'It's your mind playing tricks on you', he told himself, leaning even closer. And gasped.

The carvings were, in reality, lines of intricate writing, forming a portrait. There wasn't a single inch of wood that wouldn't be covered in swirling runes. He ran his fingers over the symbols, trying to identify this alphabet. It didn't surprise him that the wood was as warm as one's skin. If there were creatures made of poison and light, there could be beings woven of spells and stories as well.

Somewhere behind him, a door snapped with a dry echo.

The sudden realization of someone else's presence evoked a cold shiver running down his spine. Loki stood still for a moment, then turned away and ran towards the entrance. He knew all too well that he was risking an encounter with the person that had entered these chambers, but he wasn't going to wait for them at the dead end, frightened like a prey during a chase.

He hid behind one of the columns, feeling the wooden scales pressing into his arm. He could already hear the thump of footsteps. There was more than one person.

The comparison to chase became more accurate than he'd like it to be.

'We know you're here.' The voice was crude, the pronunciation even more so. Loki clenched his teeth and quickly moved towards the next column. If they were wise enough, they might have left someone to guard the entrance, but he could deal with one opponent.

He peeked cautiously from behind the sculpture. There were five of the hunters, all of them taller than him and with tunics clinging tightly to their freshly developed muscles. They didn't bother to invent any strategy of combing through the chambers; they just swaggered through them with dull animal persistence. It came to Loki that soon even this vast, labyrinthine room won't be a clever hideout if they managed to surround him. And he didn't have much time. He had one last risky way out, though. He tried to gather all his thoughts in one place and wrap them around one simple wish: to disappear. It was supposed to work that way - the reality should bend to his will.

Only it didn't want to do so. He could feel the air tingling his skin, as if it refused to form a shield around him. He could also hear the steps drawing closer. His will seemed to radiate a faint shimmer instead of expected bright light, and soon even this won't be of any use.

His thoughts disentangled for a while and scattered, but then something else pulled them in one place again, as strongly as a magnet pulls scraps of iron. It wasn't fear, surprisingly enough. It was anger. He, Loki, was not going to get caught. And he would force the world around him to protect him, if needed.

Suddenly, the air pushed into his lungs as the shield around him closed. He turned back just in time to face one of the so-called hunters - completely oblivious to his presence. Loki held his breath and passed by the lad. He wanted to laugh: after all, he was walking among them, those pitiful soon-to-be warriors, and he could do anything to them if he wanted. It was a pity that he needed to get out quickly. He could make them feel chased and scared.

He strode to the entrance instead, chin held up, a smile flickering on his lips. His thoughts have formed a tight knot around the very core of his personality -

- and then they dispersed, again, drawn away by hundreds of questions and issues he'd been juggling in his mind on this day.

He blinked in disbelief, painfully aware of how exposed and visible he was now.

There must have been something that undid his illusion, pulled all threads out of it. Something he couldn't put his finger on. And he didn't have time for this, anyway.

Soon someone pushed him, and he hardly kept his balance.

'So you thought you can hide from us?', someone said from behind his back.

'Petty little coward.'

'You and your girly magic tricks.'

Loki scowled.

'Leave me alone', he ordered. The command met with mocking laughter.

He tried to strain, but oppressors had surrounded him, forming a tight circle. A wall of strong hands and hostile sneers.

Someone pushed him again and he almost dropped.

'What did you look for, you little creep?'

'Why would I tell you', he snorted. 'You wouldn't be able to understand it anyway.'

He knew he wasn't helping himself before one of the ruffians managed to tug at his tunic.

'Let's make it clear', his enemy growled. 'You are at our mercy and nobody will come to help you. So you'd better give anything you've found in here.'

Loki somehow managed to look calm. Or even a bit bored.

'Go and look for it yourselves if you really intend to loot your own home.'

He expected a blow for this line, and was kindly surprised when it didn't occur. Opening of the door and the sight of his brother was surprising, too, but at least it made sense.

The bullies took a step back, as if they didn't intend to do him any harm. They would probably call him names or scoff at his poor battle skills, but they wouldn't touch him in Thor's presence. It was just as reassuring as it was humiliating.

Thor looked at him, his hands resting on his hips in a gesture that signified anything but serenity.

'Where did you think you were going?', he asked, glowering at him.

Loki felt a wave of cold anger pouring over his mind.

'And since when do I have to excuse myself?'

Of course it made sense. His brother's motivation could have been genuine concern, as usual, but asking his friends to look for his sibling was a stupid mistake. And so it was Thor who stopped him from finding out what was written on the portrait. It was his fault. The wave of anger struck again.

'I know I should respect you, brother', Loki added in a malicious voice, 'but how could I?' He sighed with feigned sorrow.

'Loki – don't.' Thor's reply sounded like a thunder, but he could see also fear in his brother's eyes. He already knew where this conversation was leading to. They both knew.

Loki smiled.

'Since you cannot accomplish anything without your pack of hounds. Not very impressive, I would say.'

Thor clenched his fists.

'Take it back, brother.'

Loki shook his head, glancing at the ruffians. They stood still in anticipation.

'I order you to take it back.'

The younger prince rubbed his fingers, remembering the carved runes beneath his fingertips. Maybe he still had a way out.

'Make me', he said finally, looking his brother in the eye. It took a good deal of composure. Just as looking in the eye of the storm.

'I shall', Thor replied furiously. Someone clapped their hands.

Loki took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, but still better than surrender.

'A duel, then?'

'On the morrow.'

'Where?', Loki asked.

'In the gardens. And no weapons. Only bare hands.'

'So be it.' He thought of what he could do without a weapon. His _mind _was his weapon. He didn't need any other. 'The winner has the right to ask the loser for any favor. Such as bringing a valuable item.'

Thor gave him another warning stare.

Loki smiled.

'I dare you… brother.'


	2. Chapter 2

_This is what happens when you hurry through a maze; the faster you go, the worse you are entangled._

- Seneca

Thor lay wide awake as seconds stretched into hours and stars glimmered, distant and cold and unwilling to give any answer, let alone something as complicated as any of the prophecies he had heard of.

He recalled what his brother had said, knowing there was more to it than just escaping an inconvenient situation. Not even that; it was a deliberate delay, inevitably leading to a defeat. Loki wouldn't let himself be defeated - unless an apparent loss was actually his gain and victory. If only he knew what this gain could be. Loki had mentioned a valuable item, and it seemed correct to assume that he had a certain artifact in his mind. Such conclusion was not helpful at all, knowing that Asgard was a real treasury. Thor was only sure that the object had to be powerful, rare, difficult to find and obtain, and possibly leading to a terrific mess, to his brother's delight.

Thor mulled over countless scenarios of how this duel might end, but he couldn't get rid of that persistent thought that he still was missing his brother's point. However, of one thing he was certain: he was not going to let anyone hurt his stubborn, secretive and temerarious sibling. Even if it meant fending Loki off hurting himself. Even if Loki would earn a few blows in the process.

He waited until the skies kindled and then left to the gardens.

Loki was already waiting. He'd emerged from fading shadows as if the green maze was his territory; a pale, wide-eyed child surrounded by spruce foliage, trying to gather all of his carefully built sinisterness. Thor couldn't help smirking at this. His brother definitely knew how to make an impression, but battles weren't won through tricks. And soon, very little would be left of this seeming self-confidence.

The younger godling replied with a mocking bow.

'I'm glad to see you didn't retreat', he jeered.

'I'm surprised to see you didn't pull in your horns', Thor retorted, just before realizing his brother was provoking him. And yet this scorn stirred up his anger.

Loki gave a delighted smile in factitious appreciation of that comment. He didn't even have to feign it. Everything was going smoothly, as expected; step by step, bewilderment, doubt, slowly boiling rage. Thor was ever so wonderfully oblivious to this game.

'So, shall we?', he asked, tugging at the tying of vambraces.

'Only hands', his brother reminded him, circling slowly.

'Of course.' The younger prince's eyes shone with offended innocence.

Thor's pack of comrades formed a semicircle around them, chanting and stamping. Loki leaned out, preparing to attack, calculating his move with precision. Ironically enough, too focused to notice the first blow.

'That's not how you do battle, prince Loki', one of his tutors had once said with rebuke. 'There will be no time for planning on a battlefield. It has to be an instinct, quicker than your wit.'

'Quicker than my wit?', the godling sneered, rubbing his arm, sore from the hit he'd just received. 'I doubt anything could be so artful.'

Now, as throbbing pain forced him to move back, he could finally recognize that instinct. Without thinking, he threw himself at his brother in an attempt in attack. He still felt pricks of fear and heard laughter and booing. He also knew he was bound to lose - his strategy was entirely relying on a firm belief that Thor wouldn't dare hurt him - but it didn't matter. He struck, his fists clenched, not paying much attention to whether his blows hit the target.

Thor grabbed the front of his shirt, pushed him aside and then lifted him without any exertion.

'Have you had enough, brother?', he asked, his voice rumbling in a disturbing way.

Loki panted. He felt a wave of heat rising to his cheeks, undoubtedly reddening them in embarrassment.

'No', he spat out, and kicked hard, reaching Thor's shin with his boot. Satisfaction was worth the pain of sudden fall to the ground.

He got back to his feet. Thor was approaching him, his eyes the colour of storm clouds, somewhat cold with what Loki recognized as determination. He dodged, landing unsteadily and taking a few wobbly steps. Compared to him, the older prince was calm and forceful, and the fight cost him little effort.

'Do I have to chase you?', he said, to his comrades' entertainment.

The little goding winced and began another onrush, just as unsuccessful as the previous one, more resembling a fit of rage than anything he'd ever been taught. Suddenly, a precise blow darkened the world before his eyes for a few heartbeats and filled his ears with painful ringing. He lost his balance and fell on his back, the impact of tumble wringing breath out of his lungs.

Loki blinked in surprise. A metallic taste filled his mouth; he swallowed quickly, rising. Thor stood nearby with a beaming, victorius grin. He lifted one hand in a instinctive gesture as the boys cheered. Finally, he turned to his brother, and Loki found some shallow satisfaction in seeing that smile fade and give place to listlessness.

'Well done, brother', he scoffed. 'Since the victory is yours... what do you want for it?'

There was still a way of winning. The scant joy of observing Thor squirm between young warrior's pride and his own weird definition of honour, by which taking advantage of younger sibling's weakness was disgraceful.

Thor took a deep breath.

'I want you to bring me the exact item you wanted to ask for in case of your victory.'

Loki's eyes widened with surprise.

'No', he gasped, 'you can't ask for that.'

'Why not?' In the silence that fell, Thor's voice was the only sound. That voice, Loki remarked. That confident, firm tone. One he couldn't simply disobey.

'How do you even know I wanted to ask for an object?', he shrugged, desperately searching for a way out.

'Brother, don't.' The older prince crossed his arms. 'Stop spinning your lies and illusions. You've lost this time, and I expect you to accept it.'

Loki scowled.

'It will be of no use to you anyway, but have it', he grumbled, assuming an indifferent look. 'Though I assure you it will be a rather miserable trophy.'

'What is it, then?' Thor kept his gaze fixed on his sibling.

'A chalice.' The other godling shrugged. 'A crude one, nothing you would consider worthy. An old focus, kept in Vanaheimr.'

The aspiring warriors gave a concordant, sneering laugh.

'In Vanaheimr', Thor repeated with disbelief.

'Well, I told you it's nothing', his brother replied in his most innocent voice.

'How cowardly is that?', someone asked. Loki turned, glowering, but it only evoked more mockery and laughter.

Thor cut it off with a slight gesture of his hand. Surprisingly, the ruffians fell silent.

'Where in Vanaheimr?', he insisted.

'Why does it matter to you?', Loki uttered, but soon gave up. 'In one of the shrines. Where else could it be kept. Njordr's sister used to take care of it.'

'You wanted to ask me to bring an old vessel belonging to a woman.' Familiar imposing tone shifted to a growl.

'Not any woman', the younger godling added quickly. 'She knows old, powerful magic-'

'As most women do', Thor said, unimpressed. 'Did you intend to humiliate me, brother, by assigning such a task?'

Loki felt a witty retort forming at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get himself to say it. There was something disturbing about this situation, and it took him a while to put his finger to it.

Beneath his pride and self-confidence, Thor sounded sad.

Taking his brother's silence as a confirmation, he swerved to his friends.

'So be it', he said, merely turning his head towards Loki. 'Let us see if you can manage this glorious undertaking yourself.'

- - -

Sore and ashamed, Loki conjured up a veil of invisibility and walked quietly to his chambers.

He didn't let himself sulk. Self-pity was for the weak. He was a god, and a prince, and what he needed was a plan, not delusive comfort of tears or rumination. Angrily, he wiggled his fingers, evoking a huge, lustrous image of Yggdrasil, cut by paths, leading from one world to another. With another swift move, he added greenish traces of shortcuts.

Maybe those mundane lessons weren't good for nothing, after all.

He allowed himself a faint smile and began packing, cursing his lack of talent for astral pockets under his breath. Getting ready for the journey was more difficult than it seemed. The sagas and tales he knew spoke nothing about preparing supplies; the heroes seemed to be prone to thirst and hunger, and apparently had no need for sleep. Loki tossed all possibly useful belongings on his blanket and stared at them for a while, trying to exclude those he could do without. Finally, he put a notebook and a quill aside, shoved a pair of armlets and an amulet of his own making and placed his provisions in a bag, along with bandages and tiny vials with remedies. Sagas spoke nothing of anyone falling ill because of wounds, but he wasn't going to be the first. He put on his finest boots, checked the knives and quietly closed the door behind him, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

He'd already learned that confidence was the key to passing unnoticed. All he needed to do was to amble as if he perfectly knew where he was going. Of course, at some point they'd notice him missing, but by then he'd be, hopefully, in Vanaheimr. And, by the way, nobody forbade him to go there. Not directly, at least.

He crossed the gates of the citadel, giving a nod to the guards. The city opened before him in a maze of streets and alleys; he continued his stroll until he reached the baileys. This was where the difficulties would begin. Magic rushed to his fingers as he flickered them before his closed eyes, endeavouring to see beyond the most external layer of reality. He knew well enough that Asgard's walls had spells woven into them, not to mention countless beings and spirits inhabiting the city.

Loki wasn't even surprised when, among shadows and scaffolding of spells, he noticed the powerful flame he instantly recognized as his brother.

'Did you plan to bid me farewell?', he sneered, opening his eyes and glancing at Thor.

'No.' Thor's lips formed a thin line. 'I am not letting you to enter Vanaheimr alone.'

Loki snorted.

'Oh, but it's land of the gentle Vanir, and my undertaking is so simple. Embarrassingly simple, as for Asgardian prince.'

The older godling frowned.

'It can't be simple, or otherwise you wouldn't even think of making me do it for you. There must be something I don't know.'

'How long did it take you to realize it?', Loki sighed.

'Not too long, since you're still here.' Thor caught Loki's arm before he could flinch. 'And you're not going to Vanaheimr alone.'

'Don't bring shame upon me, brother', he replied flatly, as if he didn't believe in his own shame. 'What will your friends say?'

'You know I can make enough noise to gather all the guards here in a blink of an eye', Thor warned him.

Loki heaved another weary sigh.

'Are you threatening me, brother?'

'If I cannot convince you in any other way? Apparently.'

He winced, trying to overcome a little gush of gratefulness and relief.

'As you wish', he muttered, releasing his arm from Thor's grip.

With both hands spread in front of him, Loki evoked the image of Yggdrasil again. There were shortcuts, as he'd been told. He'd never used any of them, but opening such door couldn't be troublesome. As far as he knew, it took only pressing in the right place, where the fabric of reality was thinner: either damaged or left almost threadless for some purpose.

'I suppose this is an escape route', he said quietly, drawing intricate lines with his fingers.

'For what?' Thor furrowed his brows. 'Why would anyone have to escape Asgard in such a disgraceful way?'

'You never know.' His voice was barely a whisper, tense with engrossment. 'Maybe we'll use it one day for a similar purpose.'

'I will never abandon Asgard. Not like that.'

Loki shrugged, clenched his teeth and carefully tore the wall as easily as if it was a sheet of paper. Magic scorched at his skin.

- - -

Frigga lifted her head and stared at the city, her eyes squinting, focusing at the distant point where flames of magic licked the walls. It has begun, as she's been told. She hated to know that Thor had just entered the eye of the storm, regardless of how ironic it sounded, concerning the fate that awaited him. Of course she did everything she could to prevent it. Even talked to the Norns.

But, then, the Norns weren't known for their mercy.

- - -

Vanaheimr was a beautiful realm, but for those used to citadel's lack of space, it was also ominously vast and sparse. The siblings found themselves feeling uneasy and exposed. Another disturbing quality of the famous land of fertile grounds and fecund harvest was its quiet. The fields and pastures seemed deserted, with wind's hollow murmur being the only sound. Sudden impression of loneliness, so very unusual, gripped the godlings' minds. Even so, it could have been illusory, for all they knew – the ears of late cereal and were high enough to provide a hideout for someone much taller than teenage Asgardians.

They walked by the bounds of a freshly harvested field, surrounded by a lush hedge and a row of trees weighing down with heavy, red fruit. Thor glanced at them longingly, but continued walking by his brother's side, not really convinced of whether Loki knew where to go. None of them spoke, as if afraid to break the silence and uncover their presence.

'This is ridiculous', Thor uttered, overwrought in his voice. 'There is no reason for which we should act like perpetrators.'

'If we were to act like such, we'd be crawling in the grass', Loki replied.

'You certainly know what I had in mind. Crossing the border is not a crime.'

'Theft is, on the other hand.'

'Did you already steal anything, brother?' Thor shook his head.

'Harsh words', the younger godling smiled, plucking two fruits and and handing one of them to Thor.

'At least there is no peril of starvation, in spite of being lost.' He dug his teeth in syrupy pulp.

'We are not lost. I know where I'm going', Loki said as carelessly as if visiting nearby realms was his usual pastime activity.

Thor only raised his eyebrows, making no secret of his disbelief.

However, this time Loki's assurances proved to be true. The golden chariot had only begun its slow descent when they noticed thin pillars of smoke rising to the grayish skies. Soon, a tall edifice emerged from the hills. A few inconspicuous households were built around it, as if they were clinging to steep stone walls. The temple had very few windows, all of them slender and narrow. At its top, on an extensive terrace, blurred figures were moving around torches and an offering, burning at the

altar.

'So this is this famous shrine?' Thor asked dubiously, eyeing the building. 'I'd rather call it a stronghold. How exactly are you planning to get past those walls?'

'By wit and charm', Loki replied with an impatient wave of his hand.

'Why did it scare you?'

'What?' He flinched and glanced at his brother nervously. 'It didn't scare me. It's anything but scary.'

'For some reason, you didn't want to go there', Thor insisted. 'You should explain it to me now.'

Loki hesitated under his brother's perceptive gaze. Maybe Thor wasn't adept at diplomacy and ancient lore, but he had this surprising ability of seeing things clearly, no matter how concealed they were.

'Don't you feel it?', he answered at last. 'It is a stronghold indeed. Only… only its purpose is to contain what's inside. Some primeval force, older than Asgard itself.' A shiver ran through his body. 'It's calling to us.'

They exchanged glances that spoke of their apprehension better than any words. It was certain that they shouldn't be there; the thrill of adventure was gone, they wanted to go home.

Not that any of them would admit it openly.

Without a word, Loki spun an illusion of invisibility over both of them.

'You simply want to enter it.' Thor frowned.

'It's not guarded.'

'And later?'

'We will see what ensues.'

They clasped their hands and prowled the valley. Gradually, the call that Loki mentioned grew somehow louder, causing their ribs to resound with its droning. Though, at the same time, both brothers knew that this sound was not audible at all; not by their senses. It affected soul, not flesh.

The gates of shrine were open, but Thor immediately noticed their iron reinforcements and a grating ready to be lowered. He clutched his fingers firmly around the grip of his sword, not releasing Loki's hand. The younger prince let his brother direct the course and followed him to the temple.

It welcomed them with coldness of thick stone and spoiled scent of incense. The vault was closing high above them, supported by massive arches. Godling of mischief craned his neck to look at it as Thor guided him, treading carefully by the wall. As for someone who Loki considered rather rash, he was surprisingly surreptitious and agile. Like a warrior entering a foreign realm should be.

With Thor leading the way, Loki could focus on the place itself. At first he assumed that the walls were partially covered in moss, but soon discovered that thin veins ran through the stone, pulsating with faint emerald light, almost as if alive. The building was cold, not resembling any living creature, but Loki knew there were beings whose skin was much colder. Overall, the idea of a huge shrine inhaling magic didn't seem too unreasonable to him. In fact, it even evoked some confidence in him, if the chalice really comprised what he hoped to find – and that was something very basic, very ancient, powerful and sorcerous indeed.

Smiling to himself, he let his hand out of Thor's grip and began to walk faster, ignoring his brother's reproachful gestures. He didn't care - he was where he wanted to be, so close to the artifact. Mere steps away from satisfying his curiosity. Too preoccupied with his hopes and dreams to notice the illusion become threadbare, he strode, heading to where the most central altar should be.

Loki's careless steps were not the only ones that echoed in the corridor, as Thor realized with dread. Two figures were approaching, both of them wrapped in long capes and hoods resting on their arms, exposing loose blonde curls and comely faces that looked like mirror reflections of each other. The thunder godling found it utterly difficult to remember that the Vanir were considered a peaceful tribe. Those two didn't look peaceful at all when they walked to his brother.

'What in all hells are you?', one of them asked, his (or her?) voice dangerously low, even if pleasant.

Thor could see only his brother's back, but had no trouble imagining Loki blinking and frowning before bringing an expression of apparent self-confidence to his face.

'I am Loki Odinson and I have come to pray at your altar.' He gave a little, shallow bow.

'Asgardian', the other growled. 'A pitiful, stray creature. Look at him.'

Thor pleaded silently that his brother would have enough common sense not to retort to someone who had called him _pitiful _and _stray_, for the sake of his own wyrd. Thankfully, Loki chose beguiling instead of insulting.

'And if I am here to untangle my paths?', he asked in a smooth voice.

'How could you? You are blind. You're an empty vessel.' The other spoke indifferently. 'A pretty, fragile flesh over a poor excuse for a soul.'

Loki fell silent, completely taken aback.

'You should have stayed in your chambers, child. This is no place for you. Raw magic will wrench you before the dawn.'

Thor stood, as if frozen, gazing at the three silhouettes idly. He could also feel it. Some unnamed force pricking at his skin, gradually tearing him apart from the inside.

'Try me', Loki demanded suddenly, almost shouting. 'I have what it takes. I have chaos within.' He paused, inhaling deeply. 'Let me stay. I'll prove myself.'

The Vanir looked at him, their faces lighting up with amusement.

'And what on earth', one of them spoke, holding back laughter, 'made you think, little Asgardian, that we were intending to let you out?'


End file.
